


Fall Back Together

by nevernevergirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:56:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevernevergirl/pseuds/nevernevergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from Neverland with everyone they love safe and sound, Neal and Emma get the chance to work through the past and think about the future while Storybrooke attempts to create a new normal. 3B AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU picking up during The New Neverland-- Pan is trapped in Pandora's box and never switched bodies with Henry, the curse reversal doesn't happen. Based on/inspired by this lovely, beautiful mix by cassidyswan: http://8tracks.com/haleyjeanxx/are-we-out-of-the-woods-yet, which you should all definitely listen to and cry with me over.

Once upon a time, in a land without magic, an impossible thing happened.

A lost princess came across a misplaced spinner's son. Worlds away from home, the two crossed paths, locked eyes, and fell in love. 

It happened like this: fast and furious, over stolen cars and stolen glances, two wandering children giving way to wandering hands in the backseat of a makeshift home as their makeshift lives collided, hard.

They fell apart with one quick, clean cut--whispered secrets in a dark alley twisting into jail time and bellies rounded with sadness and cracks too deep in hearts already broken.

The definition of insanity: repeating the same action, expecting different results--

When they fall back together, it happens slowly.

***

Neal didn’t look up when the door opened and the bell rang. It was the first thing Emma noticed, because her eyes were glued to him from the second she walked in, like magnets-- her subconscious telling her _okay, time to deal with your shit_. He was hunched over his tea cup, looking sad and pathetic as hell. It was a far cry from the kid who had popped up in the back seat of the car she stole. That kid had been cocky and infuriating and endearing. Not that Neal wasn’t _still_ those things, because—well, okay, yeah, sure. But _older_. It made sense; some days, she felt centuries older than girl she’d been a decade ago. Sometimes, she thinks they’re so far removed from Portland, she’s not sure how they even recognize each other beneath all the layers of should-have-been-but-it-wasn’t.

Her stomach twisted in knots. 

How’s anyone supposed to start over when they’ve taken a thousand steps back from where they left off?

Her father nudged her side gently and sighed audibly when he received a glare for his efforts, holding up his hands and making his way back to his booth with her mother. Emma pretended not to notice their craned necks, their none-too-subtle glances.

_Come on, Emma. It’s just a date. It’s not even a date, date. It’s just lunch. It’s barely lunch. It’s eating at the same table. That’s all._

She sucked it up and walked over. 

“Hey,” she said, shifting on the balls of her feet. He looked up, startled, nearly toppling his cup. 

“Hey,” he echoed, quietly. He sat up straight suddenly, gesturing vaguely. “I, uh. You can sit. I mean. If you want.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean. I can sit,” she echoed, hastily, sliding into the booth across from him. “Um. Sorry I’m late. Wanted to check on Henry.”

“Yeah, of course,” Neal shook his head. “He’s okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s good,” she said, quickly, nodding a little too hard. “Still at Regina’s. He said she’d drop him off at my parents’ place later.”

“Good. That’s good,” he nodded, playing with his cup. “You okay with all that?”

“Of course,” she said, a defensive edge, creeping out. “She’s his mom, too.”

“I know she is,” Neal said. The corners of his mouth quirked up just slightly. Emma frowned, sitting up a little straighter and glaring a little. 

“He’s eleven, and he’s been thrown in the middle of family drama for months, and then he got _kidnapped_ —“

“By Great-Grandpa Peter Pan,” Neal cut in, grinning. Emma snorted.

“Yeah, exactly,” she shook her head. “He wants to be in his house with his mom.”

Neal nodded. “Probably missed sleeping in his own bed, too.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Emma said, crossing her arms. “I’m not jealous of Regina.”

“I know you’re not,” he said, grinning anyway. 

“Good, because I’m _not_ ,” she glared. She sighed, shaking her head. “I just—“

“You just want to see him,” he finished, softly. “Make sure he’s still there. I know. I get it.”

Emma stared at him for an achingly long moment. He ducked his head, just slightly, hiding an almost sheepish smile.  

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. “Guess you do.”

She looked down, staring at her hands folded on her lap. Neal spun his cup around in slow, idle circles; the sound of it scratching against the tabletop rang in her head.

“Neal--”

“Em, I--”

They stopped as simultaneously as they started, both grinning sheepishly. Emma shook her head.

“You know, somehow, this was easier the first time around,” she said, smirking a little. He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, hot-wiring my car wasn’t a bad ice-breaker.” 

She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t your car.”

“Details,” he waved her off, grinning. He bit his lip. “I don’t want this to be hard on you, Emma. I want to talk, but we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I meant that, you know?”

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. “I know.”

“I want you to be happy,” he blurted out. “I was scared before, when I didn’t come here after the curse broke.”

“I know,” she said, quietly. “You already told me that, Neal.”

He shook his head, smiling a little and running a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’d had even back when they were kids.

“No, I mean-- I don’t want to be too scared to work through whatever we have to work through so we can both be there for Henry. And if that’s all you want, I’ll back off there. I just...want you to be happy,” he smiled, sheepishly.

“I don’t know if I know what being happy means for me,” she said, quietly. 

“I don’t want to push you to figure it out,” he said. His voice sounded small. “I don’t want this to be too fast, or too much, and I meant it, yesterday. I’ll back off, and quit bugging you--”

“I came,” she cut in, concentrating very hard on the table in front of her

“Yeah,” he said, quietly. “But the offer still stands.”

She smiled a little, nodding. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She breathed in, slowly, steadying herself. “Maybe we can just start with ordering lunch?”

She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. He stared back, nodding slowly and smiling tentatively.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

***

Henry ran bounding into the loft, dropping his book bag unceremoniously and kicking off his shoes.

“Do we have any ice cream? I missed ice cream when I was in Neverland.”

“You had a gigantic sundae last night,” she pointed it out. 

“I _really_ missed it. I was kidnapped!” he tried. Emma rolled her eyes, smiling anyway, walking to the kitchen.

“Yeah, we have ice cream. Hey, put your shoes and bag way, Regina’ll kill me if I send you back with bad habits.”

He sighed, running back to the door to put away his things. “Hey, how was your lunch with Dad?”

Emma startled. 

“How did you know I went to lunch with your dad?”

“Paige and her dad saw you guys at Granny’s,” he shrugged. “She texted me.”

“You’ve been texting Paige?” Emma asked interestedly, raising her eyebrows. Henry narrowed his eyes.

“Nice try. No changing the subject.”

“I was hungry, and he was hungry, and it was lunchtime,” she shrugged, grabbing two spoons and shoving them into the carton of ice cream, setting it on the counter. 

Henry raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” she shrugged, settling down on a stool and digging into the carton. Henry sighed, scrambling on the stool next to her.

“Okay, but did you _plan_ to go with him?”

“He said he’d be there for lunch.”

“ _Mom_.”

She sighed, setting her spoon down. “I knew he’d be there, kid, he asked me to come. We just talked.” 

“About what?”

“Your math grades,” she raised her eyebrows, smirking a little. Henry glared. 

“Did not,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Come on.”

“I don’t know, Henry, we talked about a lot of things,” she sighed. “You. How things are going to work with him here, and me, and Regina.”

“Did you talk about how you still love each other?” He asked, bluntly.

Emma sputtered. 

“What?” he shrugged. 

“I…It’s complicated, kid.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question,” he pointed out, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

“I know,” she sighed. 

He set down his spoon, turning to her with a serious look on his face.

“Look, I know you think I’m just going to get my hopes up about you guys getting back together,” he bit his lip. “And I think that would be cool. But I _also_ think you still care about him.”

“Oh, hey, of course I care about Neal, kid,” she said, softly. “I’m probably always going to care about him, he’s your dad.”

“I didn’t mean as my dad, and you know that,” he said, pointedly. 

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. “Henry. That doesn’t mean everything ends in happily ever after. Not even your book always has those.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But we thought he was dead, and he’s not. So maybe this is a second chance.”

“Maybe, Henry,” she said, giving him a small, sad smile. 

“Even if it doesn’t work out,” he shrugged. “At least you’ll know, right?”

Emma stared at him.

“Yeah, kid. You’re probably right.”

***

Neal unlocked the door to his room at Granny’s, closing the door behind him and staring ahead, dazedly.

Lunch had been…something.

He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that she’d come, but he sort of had anyway. Hope was a hard habit to beat out of him, apparently, but this time—well. Maybe this time it would hurt a little less. 

Because she’d shown up. And that was something— it was better than nothing.

He sat on the edge of the still unmade bed, reaching into his pocket and letting his fingers wrap around the cool metal keychain. He held it up, letting it fall into the palm of his hand.

God, he’d felt like a million bucks when he’d first given that to her. She’d smiled at the two dollar piece of crap he hadn’t even been able to _afford_ , and it was like he’d finally gotten something right.

He hadn’t earned the right to give it back yet. Maybe he never would.

But.

She’d shown up. That was a start.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma is still the Savior, Neal's still dealing with the remnants of Neverland, and Inadvisable Things happen, probably.

Emma had woken up that morning with her kid tucked safely in his own bed and the knowledge that her parents were just downstairs. She’d driven to work in a surprisingly comfortable silence with her father; they’d picked up coffee and donuts on the way in, and she’d wondered absently when he’d figured out that bear claws were her favorite. It had been a quiet morning so far— all paperwork and filing in a way that didn’t even really feel tedious. Just calmer than she’d felt since—well, since the curse broke, at least. Maybe longer.

“We definitely didn’t have this much red tape at home,” David complained, making a face at the stack of files Emma had just placed on his desk. “And we ran a _kingdom_.”

“You didn’t have running water, either,” she shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who decided being the sheriff’s dad made you deputy.”

David grinned, opening his mouth to retort before he was cut off by the sharp ring of Emma’s cell phone. Emma sighed, digging her phone out of her pocket. She glanced at the caller id, frowning and setting the phone on her desk, staring at it as it rang. 

“Emma?” David mirrored his daughter’s frown, leaning over to glance the screen. He sighed, shaking his head. “Ah. Any reason you’re avoiding Neal?”

“I’m not,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. David raised his eyebrows, giving the still-ringing phone a pointed look.

“Nothing happened on your date yesterday?”

“No,” she said, quickly. “It wasn’t even really a date.”

“So you’re just letting the phone ring for no reason at all?”

Emma glared, huffing a little as she picked up her phone, pressing ‘answer’ borderline aggressively.

“Hey, Neal. What’s going on?”

***

Neal paced the length of the space behind the counter in his father’s pawn shop, trying his absolute best to count to ten, take a deep breath, and calm the fuck down. 

“One quiet day,” he muttered, under his breath. “That shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

A soft thud from the other side of the shop brought him out of his private brooding; he looked up sharply and sighed. A pigskin ball he recognized as his own rolled across the floor. He filed away the fact that his father had kept the old toy to over-think about later, focusing instead on the defiant teenage boy staring back at him.

“Hey, kid,” he said, snapping. “Do you have a death wish? Seriously, just…sit and don’t touch anything, okay?”

The boy stared back at him silently for a long moment before walking back to his chair, sulking.

Neal sighed, running hand through his hair. Curly. The kid called himself Curly. He’d shown up in Neverland not long after Neal had been dragged onto the island. The rest of the boys had started calling him Curly, because of his hair; Neal wondered if he even remembered his real name. He’d only really clung to Baelfire out of stubbornness, drawing everything he could think of from his old life on the walls of that cave; they may have been shitty memories, but that didn’t meant they were Pan’s to take.

“Neal?”

The doorbell chimed as Emma burst in, her father at her heels. He sighed in relief, even as Emma stopped walking forward sort of awkwardly as he walked out from behind the counter, not quite meeting his eyes. David looked between them, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head almost imperceptibly. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pocket and forcing a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Kind of my job.” Emma shrugged. Neal tried not to _think_. She glanced over his shoulder. “That the kid?”

“Yeah,” Neal sighed, nodding. “Was trying to keep him from getting into anything else until you got here.”

“What happened?” David asked.

“Think he broke in last night. Belle said the lock was broken when they got here to open the shop, and he was sleeping in the back.”

“He’s one of the…lost boys?” Emma asked, the words coming out like she still couldn’t quite believe she was saying them. Neal tried not to grin. 

“Yeah. Curly,” he said, nodding. “I mean, that’s what he went by before, if I’m remembering right.”

“He was with the boys when we took them to stay with Blue and the other fairies, wasn’t he?” David asked, frowning. “We went through the list twice to make sure we didn’t miss any of them.”

“He probably ran,” Neal shrugged, running a hand through his hair. Emma looked up at him, her face softening so slightly he almost missed it. “He’s had a couple hundred years in Neverland, at least. Gonna be hard for anything to feel like a place he can stay, after that.”

David frowned, casting a glance at Emma, who immediately ignored it. 

“Where’s Gold?” she asked. “Can’t seem him reacting to a break in well.”

“Yeah, not so much,” Neal sighed. “Belle took him home. I know you guys probably want a statement, or whatever, but—“

“We can talk to him later,” David shrugged. “But we’ve got a problem if he or any of the others are running away. The fairies aren’t exactly a permanent home. Neal’s right, they need a place they feel like they can stay.”

“Storybrooke doesn’t exactly have a foster system,” Emma said, wryly, shaking her head. “We’ll figure something out. David, can you call Blue and tell her we’re bringing him back?”

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded, grabbing his phone out of his pocket as he stepped outside. Emma sighed, gesturing for Neal to come closer; he nodded, walking over— acutely aware of the angry teenager on the other side of the shop and Emma’s father on the other side of the door. 

“What happened with your dad?” she asked, voice low. Neal opened his mouth to protest, and Emma cut him off with a sharp look. “Hey. I know him well enough to be surprised that kid’s in one piece right now.”

“He kind of flipped out,” Neal sighed, running a hand through his hair. “All Belle found in the kid’s bag were some useless trinkets, nothing of value or anything. But I guess Papa started going off on him, accusing him of trying to free Pan.”

“Do you think he was?” she asked sharply.

“No,” he said, quickly. Emma nodded, a little tensely. “Emma, I swear, if I thought Henry was remotely in danger, I’d tell you, but this kid can’t get past the kind of magic my dad has on that box.”

Emma relaxed her shoulders a little. “Okay, you’re probably right. I still want to talk to him, though.”

“Of course,” Neal said, nodding. Emma bit her lip, glancing over his shoulder.

“David’s right,” she muttered. “If this really is just a kid running away…it’s a problem we’re going to keep having.”

“Yeah,” he said, quietly, meeting her eyes. “None of those kids has had a home in a long time.”

Emma gave him a small, sad smile. 

“Emma!” David burst back in through the door. Emma startled; Neal shoved his hands back in his pocket. “Mary Margaret called, she says there’s a situation at town hall with the dwarves, and you should head over there.”

Emma sighed, nodding. “Alright. You and Neal can take the kid—“

Neal’s cell phone rang, suddenly; he glanced at the caller id, frowning. 

“It’s John Darling,” he mumbled. “I told them to let me know if they need anything, I should probably—“

“Take it,” David cut in, reassuringly. “I’ll get him back to Blue and come by to get a statement later.

“Thanks, David,” he managed a small smile. “Good luck with…whatever the dwarves want, Emma.”

“So much for a quiet day,” she muttered.

Neal grinned, laughing a little.

“Yeah. Exactly what I said.”

***

“I just spent three hours listening to the seven dwarves argue about magic beans.”

“It was more of a debate than an argument,” Mary Margaret said, reasonably. “And it was only five of them! Bashful and Doc were just there about the town line!”

Emma sunk back into the couch, looking up at her mother incredulously. Mary Margaret bit her lip, holding out a mug of hot cocoa like a sort of peace offering.

When she’d shown up at town hall that afternoon, it hadn’t just been a disgruntled mob of dwarves waiting for her. Granny had been there, and Mother Goose ( _really_?), and someone her mother had just called the baker’s wife, like she was supposed to _know_ who that was, and a whole crowd of people she hadn’t thought really _existed_ a year ago. They’d gone on for hours, asking about access to the outside world and if there were any plans to re-grow the magic bean crop, and raising concerns about magic in Storybrooke Emma hadn’t even thought of.

And, apparently, they all expected _her_ to have answers. 

“I don’t know what they want me to do about all of that,” Emma grumbled. Mary Margaret gave her a sympathetic smile, settling down next to her on the couch. 

“They need a leader,” she said, softly, giving a small, almost wry smile.

“And that’s me?” Emma raised her eyebrows, skeptically. “We got princes and princesses and people who actually _know_ how to use their magic.”

“We do,” she said, nodding a little. “And we have _you_ , who broke the curse and saved all of us.”

“Yeah, and I pretty much did that by accident,” Emma muttered. “I broke a curse because Rumplestilskin wrote me into it before I was born.”

“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Mary Margaret said, softly. “I’m not saying you’re going to have all of the answers now, of course not. But I think you can be more of a leader than you think.”

Emma shrugged, staring down at her cup. “That’s a lot of faith to have in me,” she said, dryly. 

“Well, someone has to have it,” Mary Margaret teased, nudging her shoulder gently. “Emma. You’ll figure it out. You _will_.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she sighed. She shook her head, standing up after a moment. “I’m…going to go take a walk, get some fresh air and think about…everything.”

Mary Margaret frowned. “Want me to come with you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she mumbled, pulling on her shoes and a jacket. She grabbed her phone as she walked out of the door, quickly, sending a text message:

_Drinks @ Rabbit Hole in 10 min?_

_***_

Wendy was having nightmares.

And panic attacks. And crying jags. And probably a shit ton of other things Neal really should have seen coming because he’d gone through it all, too, and she’d been there even longer than he had. She’d locked herself in the closet that morning after waking up from a nightmare; her brothers had tried coaxing her out for hours, and it took another after Neal had gotten there before she’d finally unlocked the door. He’d been pretty sure by that point she was just embarrassed about the whole thing, but it still sucked. 

He sighed and took a sip of his beer. Maybe Pan had been right after all; you never really got to leave Neverland, not completely.

“Hey. Neal.”

He startled a little, smiling at Emma and gesturing for her to sit next to him. “Hey yourself,” he said. He felt himself grin goofily before he could really stop it, and just sort of hoped he didn’t look _that_ stupid.

Emma rolled her eyes, smiling back as she sat down and grabbed the beer next to his. 

“You started without me,” she noted, raising her eyebrows. “Your afternoon went that well, huh? What happened with the Darlings?”

“Nah, it wasn’t that bad,” he said, quickly, taking a drink. Emma narrowed her eyes at him Neal sighed. “Wendy just got dragged into the 21st century. Kind of a culture shock, you know?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” she said, watching him carefully. He ran a finger around the rim of his glass idly, looking away from her. Emma sighed a familiar sigh— the kind he knew meant _I know that’s not the whole story, but I’ll let it go for now_. “Maybe Henry can show her around Storybrooke sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Neal shrugged, giving her a small smile. “Hey, how did your thing at town hall go?”

Emma made a face, picking up her own glass and taking a long drink. Neal laughed, shaking his head.

“Ah. Bad enough that drinking with _me_ seemed like a good way to de-stress?” He raised his eyebrows. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I just needed to clear my head,” she said, a defensive tone creeping into her voice. Neal nodded a little, waiting. Emma sighed, fiddling absently with a napkin left on the bar. 

“Everyone in this whole town wants something fixed,” she muttered. “And they want me to do it.”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “The whole…savior thing.”

“Exactly.” Emma snorted, shaking her head. “Kind of as ridiculous as me being the sheriff, right?”

“Not that ridiculous,” he said, quietly. She rolled her eyes.

“Can we save the ‘you can do it’ speech? I already got one from Mary Margaret.”

Neal nodded silently, staring at his drink for a long, quiet moment. “Why’d you want me to meet you tonight, Emma?”

She shrugged a little, kicking at her stool. “Because you knew me when I wasn’t sheriff, or the savior, or any of this…crap,” she mumbled.  

“And I think you don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said, slowly. She opened her mouth to protest, and he shook his head. “But I don’t think that means you have to…be the answer to everything.”

“It just feels like it should be happening to someone else, you know?” she said. Her voice sort of shook, and Neal felt like he was 20 again, sitting on the hood of the Bug whispering ugly secrets in the middle of the night. “I _know_ I broke the curse. I know who my parents are. But it doesn’t feel like it should be me.”

“Like you’re just dreaming, and you’re going to wake up and go right back to normal,” he nodded. “Yeah. I get it. S’how I felt when my dad took his curse.”

“Does it ever stop?”

“I’ll let you know,” he smirked a little, nudging her. She smiled back, and for a second— shit made _sense_. 

And then she put down her drink.

She put her hand on her his arm.

She gave him _that_ little half smile, the one that meant—well, _shit._

She leaned in.

Neal pulled back immediately, almost falling off his stool.

“Emma, _what_?”

Emma took a deep breath. “Neal, I—“

“Yeah, no,” he shook his head. “I’m gonna need a _lot_ more to drink before that’s not a bad idea.”

Emma groaned. “It’s not that big of a deal—“

“ _Emma_.”

She closed her eyes. “I woke up this morning and thought ‘hey, this is great, I get to be normal,’ but I _don’t_. I don’t think I’m ever going to get that. I have parents, and a kid, and a place to stay, and I still don’t get that.“ She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I just want something normal. And easy. And…normal.”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what this is,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It was once,” she mumbled.

“You know that’s not the same,” he groaned. “Emma. This isn’t fair.”

“I know,” she mumbled. “I just…needed to do _something_.

Neal took a deep breath; he thought about curses and broken promises and his kid growing up without him. He thought about Curly breaking into his dad’s shop and Wendy crying in a hotel closet and how he couldn’t fix one single fucking thing. 

He thought about how nice it’d be to believe in normal and easy, even if it let him down in the end. A lot of things did. He’d survived before.

“This is a bad idea,” he mumbled.

“I know,” she repeated, saying it in a way that sounded more like _I’m sorry._

He took a deep breath, nodded, and leaned in.

And for the first time in eleven years, he kissed the woman he loved.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which even more questionable decisions are made, and Henry has a new operation to focus on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all for all your lovely comments on this story so far-- I'm really glad you're all liking it, because it's been really, really great playing around with the unexplored possibilities with these two! And thanks x1000000 to my bff tumblr user snow-blanchards, who definitely helped me plot this chapter out and spends a lot of time validating my choices tbh.

If she concentrated on the squeak of too-old, too-cheap mattress beneath her and the warm, wet heat of his mouth against her neck, she could almost forget to feel guilty. 

Emma had been the one to suggest they go back to Neal’s room. He’d sighed a little and given her a barely-there sad smile when she’d pressed her forehead against his. He’d nodded, just slightly—just enough. 

And here they were.

She pulled away just enough to sit up, smiling a little at Neal’s murmured protest. She lifted her shirt up and off and pretended not to notice when he breathed in too sharply. 

(This was a mistake.)

She took his hand from where it rested idly on her thigh, pulling it up to her ribcage and sliding it around her back, to the clasp of her bra. He bit his lip, worrying at it—she tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, making him smile a little and roll his eyes. The fabric scratched against her spine and she felt his fingers shake; she let the straps fall off her shoulders.

(This wasn’t fair.)

She got her hands under his shirt, lifting it up as she slid her palms up his chest, slowly. He lifted his arms and gave her a not unfamiliar, sheepish smile as he let her take it off. He stood to get his pants the hell off, and Emma unbuttoned her own jeans, smiling as Neal went sort of slack-jawed like a fucking teenager as she slid them down with her panties, kicking both to the floor. 

(This was reckless.)

And then: his hand was on her hip with his thumb running slow, feather-light circles right where the bone dipped, and his lips worked slowly against hers. And _shit_ — he touched her like he knew it had been eleven years, but _also_ kind of like he was trying not to think about that, and Emma wasn’t sure if wanted to sink down into her own nagging sense of familiarity or kick it to the fucking curb. 

“Hey,” he murmured, breath hot against her ear. She turned to look at him, trying to figure out if his eyes were more green or brown. She’d never been able to decide; hazel, maybe. “Hey, Emma.”

“Mm?”

“Are you sure?” he asked, quietly. His maybe-hazel eyes were serious. 

“Can you just…not ask me that?”

“Emma, come on,” he sighed. “We’re not…we can’t…not if you’re not sure.”

_He’s going to get hurt_ , she thought. _I’m going to get hurt. This can’t be nothing. This can’t be everything._

And finally: _I don’t care_.

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. 

It felt like a loaded gun. 

***

Neal woke up at the crack of fucking dawn the next morning to the sound of water running in the bathroom sink. He wrinkled his nose, sitting up and looking around the room, confusedly. He zeroed in on the pair of jeans and red leather jacket on the floor.

Right. Fuck. 

He ran a hand through his hair, still trying to process when Emma walked out of the bathroom in her underwear, distractedly trying to pull her hair into a ponytail. 

He tried not to stare. He tried not to think about how he’d never really gotten this, even before things went to shit— Emma the morning after, stumbling out of the bathroom, still pushing herself out of sleep. Not much opportunity for that when you live in a car. 

Emma startled suddenly, swearing under her breathe when she realized he was awake. Neal grinned, automatically. 

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice coming out rough and scratchy. Emma shot him a small smile, fidgeting with her ponytailas she walked over to her pile of clothes. 

“Hey yourself,” she mumbled, yanking her jeans on. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. She turned to look at him, raising her eyebrows. He laughed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little.”

“Sorry. Thought I was being quiet.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, shifting a little to get a good look at the clock on the dresser. “Why’re you up so early, though?”

“Some of us _work_ , Neal.”

“Hey, I’ve worked,” he rolled his eyes, smiling anyway. “Didn’t realize watching the sunrise was a job benefit on the right side of the law.”

Emma threw one of his own socks at him; it hit him in the shoulder, and she laughed when he whined. 

“I’m meeting Henry for breakfast before school,” she said, pulling her sweater over her head and grabbing her jacket. “And I need to…run to the loft and put on something I wasn’t wearing yesterday,” she said, wryly.

Neal smirked. Emma’s cheeks went sort of red, and that really only made him smirk more. 

“Guess that’s a good idea,” he shrugged. “Let me take a shower and get dressed, I can meet you guys there.”

“I really don’t want him to be late for school,” she said, quickly. She pulled on her boots, not looking at him. “He’s been gone for awhile, and I wanted to talk to his teacher—“

“Your mom’s his teacher,” he said, flatly. Emma sighed, closing her eyes. 

“I’ll tell him you’ll meet him after school, okay? Just have him back at Regina’s by dinner.”

“Emma—“

“I’m not keeping you from him,” she said, abruptly. “I just…I can’t go to breakfast with you right now, okay?”

Neal closed his eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I know that’s not fair, I know I said—“

“It’s okay, Emma,” he said, quickly, before he could think about how okay it didn’t feel. 

“Okay,” she repeated, standing up. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He nodded, staring at the ceiling. The door shut. His stomach sort of sank.

“Fuck.”

***

Henry’s parents were being weird. 

Well, Regina was fine. She let him stay up half an hour later on school nights ever since Neverland, and they had ice cream after dinner _every night_ last week, but other than that, she was fine. But Emma and Neal were being weird. Mostly around each other. 

Well. That was sort of it. They were mostly _not_ around each other. 

If Emma took him to school, Neal picked him up and hung out with him until it was time to go back to Regina’s. If he had dinner with Neal, Emma came by when they were done to take him for ice cream. And a couple of days ago, when Henry had left his storybook in Neal’s room, Emma waited down at the counter in the diner, saying she wanted to talk to Ruby about something.

He was eleven, not stupid— he knew something had _happened._ But he didn’t really put it together until he was sitting at the table in his grandparents loft, working on his long division while Emma and Grams did the dishes.

“I told Blue I’d be by early in the morning to talk about finding more permanent places for the lost boys, so Neal’s going to come pick Henry up for breakfast before school.”

“Is he going to be here before or after you leave?” his grandmother asked, her voice kind of _too_ light. Henry grinned a little, turning as subtly as he could just in time to see his mother make a face. 

“What are you trying to say, Mary Margaret?” she sighed. 

“Just that I haven’t seen you two talk much lately.”

“We talk,” Emma said, defensively. Henry rolled his eyes.

“Mmhm. When forced.”

“That’s not true.” Emma sighed, shaking her head. “We’re just trying to get the hang of this co-parenting thing.”

“Right. Nothing to do with the date you went on,” she smiled a little as Emma scrubbed at her dish probably harder than she had to, Henry noticed. “Or,” she grinned, lowering her voice—but not enough, Henry thought, smugly. “Nothing to do with you sneaking in before the sun was up a couple of weeks ago?”

“ _Mary Margaret_ ,” Emma hissed. Grams held her hands up, smiling.

“I’m not saying anything,” she mumbled. “You’re an adult. You’re more than capable of making your own decisions.”

Emma rolled her eyes and Grams sighed and changed the subject back to the lost boys, but Henry wasn’t really listening anymore. He was too busy thinking.

And _planning_. 

Because _woah_.

His parents were totally getting back together.

***

Regina felt uncomfortable in her own living room. She sat, waiting, with Emma and Neal sitting on the couch— as far apart as possible, fidgeting and very much not looking at each other. She wondered (very briefly) what that was about, before deciding she definitely didn’t care. 

Neal glanced at Emma, and Emma pretended not to notice approximately five times in three minutes. Regina sighed, tapping her fingernails against the rim of her cider glass. The things she did for her son.

Emma stared at her shoes and Neal kept glancing and Regina definitely needed a stronger drink. _Finally,_ Henry appeared, several stacks of paper in his hands. 

“Good, you’re all here,” he said, cheerfully, grinning widely. Regina smiled back, unthinkingly. 

“Of course we are, buddy,” Neal said, finally tearing his gaze away from Emma and smiling as well. 

“What’s with the paperwork, kid?” Emma raised her eyebrows.

“You said you needed to talk to us, honey?” Regina asked.

“Yep,” Henry grinned the smug little grin he wore when he was particularlyproud of himself. She wondered if Emma and Neal had noticed; sure enough, they’d finally exchanged glances and tiny, knowing little smiles. 

It was still strange, the idea that Henry had other parents. But it was less infuriating than it had been just a few weeks ago.

Her son was loved. However strange it was for her— he deserved that. 

“So,” he said, voice resolute. “You’re all my parents. Which means I want to spend time with all of you. So. That’s what we’re doing.”

Regina raised her eyebrows. Henry handed them each their own stack of paper.

“I’ve made a schedule,” he explained. “Just for the next couple of months. I figured after that we could regroup later and make any adjustments, but I tried to be pretty fair. And I can still _see_ everyone every day, for breakfast and dinner and stuff.”

“This is pretty thorough, kid,” Emma murmured, flipping through the papers, smiling a little.

“The ones highlighted in blue are times I thought we could all have dinner together,” Henry added, biting his lip. “What do you think?”

Neal grinned a grin that did look _remarkably_ like Henry’s. “I think it’s pretty amazing, Henry.”

“Thanks,” Henry beamed. He turned to look at Regina, a hopeful look on his face. “Mom?”

“I think,” she started, slowly, “I think that if this is what you want, it’s what you deserve.”

Later, she stood with her son on the front doorstep as he waved goodbye to his other parents. They watched as Emma and Neal awkwardly nodded goodbyes before Emma climbed into the yellow Bug, and Neal hastily started down the opposite direction. He’d have to double back to get anywhere he could _possibly_ be going, Regina thought.

“I wonder what’s going on there,” she murmured, absently.

“They’re getting back together,” Henry said, matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?” Regina raised her eyebrows.

“Well. I think they’re still being dumb about it,” Henry shrugged. “But they went on a date, and they’ve been acting weird. So it’s just a matter of time.”

Regina sighed a little. “Henry—“

“Oh, hey, Mom, you could help!” he said, grinning. “I’m calling it Operation Lobster.”

Regina smiled just slightly, feeling herself giving in— like she’d never had a choice. Not with Henry. “Operation Lobster?”

“I saw on National Geographic that lobsters mate for life,” he said, simply. Regina sighed.

The things she did for her son.

***

Emma sank down onto a stool at the diner counter, sighing a little and nodding vehemently when Ruby asked if she’d like a drink, quickly ordering a rum and coke. 

Things were still weird with Neal— barely looking each other in the eye weird. She didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know if fixing meant them _talking_ again, or figuring out how to avoid each other completely. She wasn’t sure which she’d prefer.

She almost fell off her seat when Regina sat down next to her, abruptly.

“Get me whatever she’s drinking,” she called out to Ruby, sharply. Emma raised her eyebrows.

“Thought you didn’t do rum,” Emma said, smirking a little. Regina made a face. 

“Yes, well. We need to talk.”

Emma sighed. “Of course we do. If this is about Henry’s schedule—“

“It’s not,” Regina cut in, rolling her eyes. “But it _is_ about Henry. He thinks you’re getting back together with his father.”

Emma sputtered. 

Regina sighed. “Did you go on a date?”

“I. It wasn’t a…we didn’t _really—“_

“Miss Swan, please. You’re not the only one who can detect lies.”

Emma slumped a little in her seat. 

“We slept together,” she mumbled. “And we haven’t really talked since.”

Regina eyed the drink set in front of her, bracing her shoulders and taking a long swig. Emma smirked a little as she made a face.

“Are you still in love with him?” Regina asked, bluntly.

“ _What_?” 

“Are you punishing him?”

“No,” Emma said, quickly. Guilt and a chorus of _I’d never mean to_ ran through her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then what _are_ you doing?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I don’t….know what I want.”

“Figure it out,” Regina said, briskly. “Look. I don’t care what you do, or who you _date_ , but our son’s going to get his hopes up. And what you do, especially with Neal, affects our son.”

“I _know_ , Regina,” she said, sighing. 

“Running from your problems won’t make them go away,” Regina said, quietly, evenly. “It’s something I’ve been learning.”

“Yeah?” Emma managed a small smile. “I guess that’s not bad advice.”

“Of course it’s not,” Regina scoffed. Emma smirked.

“It’s almost…friendly.”

“We are _not_ friends, Miss Swan,” Regina said, glaring a little. Emma laughed, genuinely.

“Fine, not friends. Drinking buddies?” She held up her glass. Regina rolled her eyes, clinking glasses anyway.

“Fine.”

“And Regina? Thanks. For talking to me.”

Regina shrugged. “It was for Henry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

***

Neal stared at his phone in his hand, finger hovering over the call button, staring at Emma’s name in his contacts list.

Calling was a bad idea. Calling was a _necessary_ idea. Probably calling couldn’t make things worse? 

A sharp knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He frowned, going to open it, staring wide-eyed at Emma on the other side.

“Um. Hi,” she mumbled. “Can I, um. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said, quickly, gesturing for her to come inside. He closed the door behind her. They stood, awkwardly, _almost_ looking at each other. 

“Emma—“

“I don’t want to keep not talking,” she blurted.

“I—“ he shook his head, running a hand through his hair and smiling, nervously. “Me either.”

Emma smiled a little sadly. “I don’t know how to not to talk to you,” she said, quietly. “But I don’t…I don’t think I know how to have you in my life, yet, either.”

Neal nodded, slowly. “We can’t do that again, Emma. Not like that.”

“Yeah,” she bit her lip. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, automatically. Emma laughed a little, hollowly, shaking her head.

“I don’t know whose fault anything is anymore,” she sighed.

“Maybe it’s no one’s,” he said, quietly. “It’s just…what it is. Me, you—“

“A mess,” Emma murmured, smiling wryly.Neal laughed.

“Exactly.”

They stood in a quiet silence—not quite a comfortable one, but something edging on it.

“So I was thinking,” he said, quietly. “I need to go back to New York for a couple of days, pack up my stuff to ship back here—“

“Did you find a place?” she asked, interestedly.

“Still looking, but the Darlings sort of asked if I’d find a place with them, for now.”

Emma frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said, quickly. Wendy hadn’t slept through the night since they’d been back. But they were handling it. And there was no need to dump that on Emma right now, not in the middle of all their own crap. “They’re just getting used to everything still. And they know me. And they’re…kind of like family.”

Emma nodded, smiling a little in understanding. 

“I think that’s great,” she said. “So, you’ll be in New York for a few days?”

He nodded. “I was thinking if you and Regina were okay with it, I might take Henry with me? He didn’t get to do much sightseeing last time.”

Emma laughed. “He’d love that. And it’s fine by me, if Regina says it’s okay.”

Neal bit his lip, deciding to just go for it. “Do you want to come with us?”

Emma blinked. “To New York?”

“Not like— not _as_ anything,” he said quickly. “I know we’re not…I don’t mean it like…I just have a lot of boxes to pack,” he rambled. “And I think you’d like it, and Henry would be there—“

“Neal,” she cut him off. He stopped, staring. She bit her lip; he could practically see her thinking. 

“I think that sounds great.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mom, a dad, and their kid go on a family vacation.
> 
> (Also, Henry learns about a few felonies.)

It didn’t really hit her until she picked Neal up from Granny’s for the drive to the airport. 

He’d thrown his duffle in the trunk next to her own bag, and she’d recognized it, smiling a little.

“You still have that thing?” she asked, automatically. Neal smiled sheepishly, scratching at his head. 

“Hey, it still gets the job done,” he said, defensively. “I’m getting my money’s worth out of it.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You dug it out of a dumpster.”

“Well. Beggars can’t be choosers,” he grinned, shrugging as he let himself into the passenger’s side. Emma rolled her eyes, grinning anyway. 

She slid into her own seat and realized, in hindsight, that maybe _let’s forget we slept together and try to be friends_ shouldn’t have meant _let’s spend three hours in the car we lived in together_.

Fuck fuck _fuck_. 

***

Henry was feeling pretty good about most things in his life right now. 

He was going on a trip with his mom _and_ his dad, _and_ they’d started actually talking again. He was going to New York, which was awesome because he hadn’t actually seen much of it last time, and he had a whole list of things to do. _And_ he’d gotten his own cell phone because of the trip.

(He felt a little bad about being excited about that, mostly because he knew Regina only broke her Eleven Is Too Young for a Cell Phone rule because she was nervous about him going so far away after Neverland. But he’d _promised_ to call her once a day and text her updates, and he didn’t even _say_ anything when she hugged him goodbye a little too tightly.)

He waved another goodbye to his mom as he settled into the backseat, kicking off his shoes automatically; Emma raised her eyebrows, but didn’t actually _say_ anything. Henry grinned. Emma shook her head and smiled, shifting the car into gear. Neal reached for his seatbelt, frowning a little when it got stuck. Emma glanced over at him.

“Oh, it does that, you just have to tug it—“

“Hard to the left, yeah, I remember,” Neal mumbled, fiddling with the seatbelt until it came loose.

Henry frowned, looking between them. 

“Dad? How did you know that?”

“Know what, buddy?”

“About the seatbelt,” he said, slowly. “How did you know what to do when it got stuck? Did mom have this car when you guys were together?”

His parents exchanged a look, and Henry knew he was right. 

“We sort of…met in it?” Neal said, shrugging. Emma shot him a look that was _definitely_ a warning. Henry grinned. 

“How do you meet in a car?”

“Well—“

“ _Neal_ ,” Emma hissed, shaking her head. She sighed. “It’s…a really long story, Henry.”

Henry shrugged, crossing his arms and settling back in his seat. “We’ve got three hours until the airport,” he said, matter-of-factly. 

**

The car ride to Boston hadn’t been so bad.

Sure, Emma had shot him _several_ exasperated looks when he’d told Henry his parents had met stealing the same car, but she’d smiled a little, so Neal figured she wasn’t really _mad_. Henry had fallen asleep about an hour into the drive, and the last stretch of it was…nice. Kind of awkward. Mostly quiet. But nice.

He hadn’t expected to ever be welcome in that passenger’s seat again. So. It was nice. 

They reached the airport with plenty of time to spare, going through security pretty painlessly— Henry reminding everyone to take their shoes off, Emma muttering something about Rumplestilskin under her breath that Neal decided he was better off not asking about. They found their gate in record time, and Henry looked at his watch, pointedly.

“We have, like. 20 minutes, Mom,” he said, crossing his arms expectantly. Emma rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah,” she shook her head. “Neal, can you watch the bags? I’m gonna take the kid to Cinnabon before he explodes.”

“You sure a ton of sugar’s gonna help that?” he teased. Henry glared a little; Neal laughed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Kidding, buddy. I’d never stand between you and a cinnamon roll, I know better than that.”

Emma smiled a little. “We’ll be back in a minute,” she promised, letting Henry lead her toward the food court. Neal smiled to himself, shaking his head and sitting down.

“How old’s your son?” Neal looked up, startled. The older woman sitting across from him smiled.

“Eleven,” he said, smiling automatically. 

“Enjoy the sugar rush stage,” she said, knowingly. “They grow up so fast.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding a little. “They do.”

Henry’d grown up eleven years without him, but this woman, this stranger— she didn’t know that. No one could _look_ at them and see all the ways he’d fucked up, all the ways he’d let Emma and Henry down. He just looked like someone with a family. 

Henry and Emma returned a few minutes later, cardboard box full of cinnamon rolls in tow. They sat down on either side of him, Emma wordlessly handing him a coffee. Henry grinned, opening up the box.

“I got extra for you, Dad.”

“Thanks, Henry,” he grinned back. He looked up. The woman across from them met his eyes, smiling a little. Neal ducked his head, feeling impossibly light.

This was what a second chance felt like, and he didn’t plan on fucking it up. 

***

It was late when they arrived in Manhattan. Henry had complained a little about how he’d _hoped_ they’d have real New York pizza for dinner, but they got him to agree to airport McDonald’s with the promise he could have as much pizza as he wanted the rest of the trip. He fell asleep on the cab ride over, anyway; Neal carried him up to the apartment, shifting him easily in his arms, and Emma wondered when she got so used to watching the two of them together like that. 

Neal got Henry settled in his bed while Emma dragged their bags in. She sat down on the couch and trying not to…stare at anything too hard. 

It had been barely over two months since their last trip to New York-- to this apartment. It was sort of ridiculous that so many _things_ could happen in two months. 

“He’s still out. Kid sleeps like a rock,” Neal commented, idly, walking out of the bedroom and sitting next to Emma. Emma snorted a little.

“Yeah, that’s all you,” she nudged him a little. “Remember that one thunderstorm? I thought the car was going to flood, it was raining so hard, and you slept through the whole thing.”

Neal smiled sort of half-heartedly, nodding a little as he stared down at the floor. Emma frowned, glancing at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse at the dreamcatcher hanging in the window— and yeah, okay. 

Maybe reminiscing didn’t come so easily in this apartment full of _look at what we never got_.

Neal ran a hand through his hair, still not looking up at her. 

“You should take the bed with him,” he murmured. “I’ll sleep out here.”

“Neal, you don’t have to—“

“Hey, this is still my place, and you’re a guest,” he said, firmly. Emma sighed and nodded. Neal bit his lip, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Belle’s sent like, 15 texts,” he murmured. “I should call, and let her know we got here okay.”

Emma nodded. “Tell her to tell your dad thanks for the plane tickets.”  

“I’m sure we’ll being paying him back for it somehow, right?” he said, wryly. “Everything comes with a price.”

“Yeah, somehow, I think you get a pass on that,” Emma said, shooting him a look, eyebrows raised. He sighed, nodding a little, silently. Emma bit her lip. “Look, I know I don’t know everything that happened between you, but he’s trying, right?”

Neal shrugged a little. “Yeah. I guess. Just…still hard to believe something like that can change.”

“Yeah,” she said, a little pointedly. “I know.”

He gave her a small smile, nodding. She smiled back, standing up.

“I should get to bed. Good night, Neal.”

“Good night, Emma.”

***

Emma woke up the next morning to coffee. And bagels. Neal and Henry both sat cross-legged on the floor, already digging in to the breakfast spread out on the coffee table. 

“Hi, mom!” Henry said, brightly. “Dad got breakfast! With extra cream cheese!”

“G’morning, Em,” Neal mumbled, through a mouthful of bagel. Emma smiled a little, taking a seat next to the boys and grabbing a bagel. Neal slid a coffee cup toward her carefully. Emma picked it up, taking a sip. 

“Did I get it right? Still a quarter cup coffee, the rest cream and sugar?” he asked, giving her a teasing smile. Emma rolled her eyes, nodding.

“Yeah, it’s good. Thanks for grabbing all this.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have anything here, obviously, and I figured we could eat quick and then do some sightseeing.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be packing?” she raised her eyebrows.

“We have three days,” Henry said, quickly. “ _And_ I didn’t get to see _anything_ last time!”

Emma smiled at him, nodding. “Fair enough, kid. Want to give the museum another try?”

“Actually, I had another idea,” Neal cut in. Emma and Henry both shot him confused looks. “We can do the museum another day, but this is cooler. Promise.”

Almost two hours later, post-breakfast and a way-too-long ride on the N train, they arrived in Brooklyn, standing in front of the entrance to Luna Park. 

Henry stared at the rides and looked over to the boardwalk before turning back to his parents, a gigantic grin on his face. “ _Awesome_ ,” he said, enthusiastically. Neal grinned back, nudging him lightly.

“Told you it was better than the museum. Welcome to Coney Island, kid.”

“Can we ride _everything_? And get chili cheese fries?”

“Duh.” Neal grinned. “Maybe ride everything _first_ , and then fries. Trust me.”

Henry nodded, rushing into the park, his parents right behind him. “This is so cool, I’ve never been to a park like this before.”

“You know, your dad took me to a place like this for our first date,” she said, before she could really think too much about it. She made a point of not looking at Neal, and a sort of bigger point of ignoring whatever her heart was doing in her chest. “In Portland, though.”

“Really?” Henry asked, curiously, stopping to look back at them, smiling a little _too_ knowingly, Emma noticed.

Neal smiled, almost shyly. “Yeah, it was kind of like this. Didn’t get to go on any rides, though.” Emma let him catch her eye; they exchanged a small smile.

“How come?” Henry asked, confused, breaking Emma’s attention away from Neal. She groaned a little; Neal shot her a sheepish, apologetic smile.

“It, uh. Wasn’t exactly…open,” he shrugged. 

“So you broke in?” Henry raised his eyebrows. 

“Uh. Kinda.” Neal shoved his hands in his pockets. Emma sighed.

“Yes, and it was _really_ wrong, and _illegal_ , and you shouldn’t do anything like because it’s _wrong_ ,” Emma said, firmly. Henry rolled his eyes.

“Got it, Mom. Can we go on the ferris wheel now?” Emma sighed, smiling a little anyway.

“Sure, kid.”

“We’re right behind you,” Neal added. He glanced at Emma, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry I let that slip. This kid’s going to commit a felony, and Regina’s gonna kill me.”

Emma laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly? He found me after stealing my mom’s credit card and hopping a bus to Boston. I think genetics already took care of that,” she said, wryly. 

Neal smiled, nodding. “Seems like he’s having a good time.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, softly. “This was a good call.”

“Yeah?” he widened his smile. “Thanks. I just…want to do things that make him happy, you know?”

“I know,” she said, grinning back.

*** 

Emma’s phone rang when Henry was dragging them along the boardwalk to Nathan’s for chili cheese fries. She glanced at the screen, smiling a little at her mother’s name on the caller id. 

“It’s Mary Margaret. I’m gonna take this, get me an order of fries?”

They nodded in unison, taking off.

“Hey,” Emma said, smiling as she answered the phone. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see how your trip was going,” Mary Margaret answered. “You didn’t say much in your text last night.”

“Yeah, sorry, it was just…late,” Emma said, apologetically. “The trip’s good, though. Henry’s having fun.”

“Good,” she paused. “Where are you? It sounds too loud to be Neal’s apartment.”

“We’re at Coney Island. Henry wanted to sight-see.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Emma said, smiling a little. “Henry’s having a good time, you know he’s barely been out of Storybrooke, and he just got to ride, like. Five roller coasters I’m pretty sure barely passed inspection. And he’s wanted to spend more time with his dad. I think it’s good for him.”

“Mm. And for you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you having a good time?”

“I…” Emma sighed a little. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“That sounded like there was a but at the end of that,” Mary Margaret said, knowingly.

“I am,” Emma said, firmly. Mary Margaret waited, silently. Emma shook her head, wondering how she _did_ that. “He just…has this stupid dreamcatcher in his apartment. From when we were kids.”

“…I see.”

Emma sighed. 

“We’re in New York at Coney Island like a normal mom and dad with their kid,” she blurted out. “But we’re not. We haven’t been together this whole time, and I’m still learning how to be a mom, and everything with Neal is probably _always_ going to feel this weird—“

“Ah,” Mary Margaret said, quietly. “Now I see.”

Emma kicked at the ground. “This is the kind of thing we used to talk about when we were together,” she said, quietly. “Going on vacations and doing… dumb tourist things. Being normal. And we didn’t get that. And now—“

“Now you sort of _are_ ,” she said, gently. “Emma. I’m not saying it’s going to be the same as it would have been before. But I think maybe you need to stop thinking about _before_. That didn’t happen. But _this_ , whatever you decide it is, _is_ happening. And I think you should just enjoy it.”

Emma bit her lip. “Okay. Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I—“ a loud crash in the background cut her off, and she swore (pretty colorfully, Emma noted) under her breath. Emma thought, not for the first time, that Disney _definitely_ missed the mark on some things.

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh, um. Your father…dropped a casserole dish,” she tried. Emma raised her eyebrows.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What actually happened?”

Mary Margaret sighed. “We’re….keeping one of the Lost Boys for a few days,” she said, carefully. “He’s…having a little trouble settling in.”

Emma blinked. “Seriously?”

“It’s just until we can find somewhere else for him to stay permanently,” she said, quickly.

“No, that’s great, it’s just…do you guys really have the room? And can you…handle that?”

“Of course we can!” Mary Margaret said, defensively. Emma sighed. “And _really_ , it’s just for a few days. We’ll find somewhere for him before you even get home, I think.”

“Okay,” Emma said, slowly, shaking her head. “Look, I should get back to Henry and Neal. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Love you, Emma.”

“Yeah. You too,” Emma said, biting her lip and hanging up. Neal and Henry walked toward her, fries in hand. 

“Everything alright at home?” Neal asked, handing her a carton of fries. 

“Yeah,” she said, quickly, deciding against getting into _I think my parents are fostering a Lost Boy_ until she’d processed that a little more. Neal gave her a curious look, nodding anyway. Emma gave him a grateful smile, digging into her fries. She made a face.

“I can’t decide if these are disgusting or perfect.”

“Exactly what makes them so great,” Neal grinned. 

Emma grinned back.

 _Just enjoy it_.

Okay. She could try that.

 


End file.
